faultline on the railroad tracks

______________________________________8:23am_______________________
_______________________"you feel that?"_______________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________the earth moved________________________________!
_____________________________________________________________________
________________________________________"it was a car on the over pass"
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
____________________________"naw it was an earthquake"_______________
_____________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________
___________the railroad ties unfastened_____________ ____ _ - - _ - _
_____________________________________________and the morning AmTrak
rushes bye__________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
_____________________"see, I told you just the railroad earth, like Kerouac
and Neal, or the Gut under bellies of America still working after all
these years"__________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________
_______________________...and we're to pity the poor and admire the rich._
___________________if I had food then I wouldn't complain about much_
________then, if I had a job I'd be eating regularly_____________________
fate remarked oddly, when he put me on this earth, to be a_______
man________________________________ chained to the_____________ word;
__________ wisedom kissed my forhead and I was ________________ALIVE!_
this was the rant---ramble-rave--- of the town the talk of the wished upon stars
of ___________________HoLlYwOoD
while I see bums wake up every morning
to their scattered treasure chest of clothes,________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________ boxsprings, chairs, and broken bikes
graffitti stained walls with wet paint...aRt shinning through the despair_____
about the time you're having your morning coffee at STARBuck$__________
he's letting his pants fall down in front of millions and they don't flinch or even
look, they're devoid of suffering they know not of the human experince anymore.
_____________________________________________________________________________
then there is me................................................................................a house bum-hermit
that should be out on the streets pushing carts of trash with a smile, forced.

computer died what a life it is

my computer died
but this little light flashes
like a glimmer of hope,
saying you might wake up in the morning to find it fully
operational and functional.
l
...but I sit with stolen moments on my roomates computer typing you this quick little rant...like a concentration camp
memoir, only the day is black and light is false.
when the sleep gets heavy on my eyes then I'll pass out to the worriesome cold that capusaltes my hellish figure.
_____- dante saw his vision of flames (still need to finish that peice of work but its so boring)
the sufferings of man due to his impoverished ponderings
of the afterlife.

joy and sorrows

as to say
this is a
upside
______- down
purgatory walk of
test
taking
bewilderment

nasty dream...and you're in it

had
a
nasty
dream
with

____an ex

(battle wounds)

sending me text messages
attached with
photos

of her

masturbating


I thought...

(that's a bad dream?)



...yea

she's a

_________headache

just waiting

to

happen

got to pouring another white Russian

and told myself

the cream
is

going to kill

you

sure

enough

a
pencil thin shit

leaked

out

and

blood

was

attached
this morning

(thinking she sent you pictures
of her perfect ass in the air
and all YOU can think about
is how awful
YOU

got it,


____________________ schmuck)

God, man, and the female mistake

"... I think it's spelled

with an...S"


what like

superficial


no, no like
super-hoe
the BDP
song


Scot-la-rock


yeah, man that's it....


super


Hoe

hold that thought until i shrink back...

recovered
from a hang over
the brake shop
had the
car


I had my blues

bad baby -broke
luck
stuffed in a notepad

skipped lunch
and headed
for the
bar by
_____________________noon
___________I
_t-h-i--n-k____
tomorrow I'll
look for a
job

I heard the place on
... ,_______________________________________________ um
23rd street was

hiring.

a cafe'
where I'd be able to
eye the young
hopeless
art
chicks

brushing up on their
hard starving
life
with a lonely
latte'
and laptop
foam
on their upper
lips
showing

that
mom and dad
sent
them
another
check
for the rent

and money was dwindling

me in
apron
hardly
seeing
a glimpse at the
typewriter
the keyboard
collects

someone

Else's


inspiration

Death of make up

----------
disposable
flesh tone
flawless
skin


you remember
when
we're
just children
I'm not sure
where
we
made
that
wrong
---turn*******

but
I'd like to
go ___k_c_a_b

___))))))))))))) _______((((((((((((((( the pile of leaves in the front
lawn
and the sprinklers
running
full blast
on brown
California
lawns
we'd jump through them as if
they'd
melt us
and that was the smile
and laughter
on
our
little
bellies

the eyes are giiving out and the drugs are wearing off

I better go get another
beer from the frig
"you know we could be the next Neal and jack!"
he said

"naw, us?... com' on yur druunx...yoou don'ts evend naw wh ut yur talkin' bout
they were mad crazy kicks man, we're new wave hipsters with no luck, fuct by tech no ology
my frrriennd"
I slurred back.
it was my fifth beer and after the bong hits
the pipes the pills and the occasional blow jobs
I thought- I could be Kerouac's ghost broke, restless and confused
shot in the dark it just be
holy-God-Christ toying with man kind letting them know
he doesn't shit around
with no talent
fools that forgot the railroad
but my railroad of the dirt-dust-to-ash-grave
is covered with graff
and the new rhythm is still
black fueled hip hop with a hustler and
dope dealer's Iceberg slim-pen


but again
who am I to say
what

I



AM...

shooting the keyboard

today I played around with sound
__ and made my ears
______________________________________________________________ ring
soon my plan
of
killing the
(whole)______ human race
will be finished...
I got a gun ,
there not that hard to find around east Oakland
w/ there serial scratched off...
the point isn't that I"d have a gun in the first place,
it's just this mexican guy
from down the block
on E.12th street and miller...
"he thinks he's shot shit if doesn't put down his pen and stop writting that shit about clouds filled with smog and write some real work THEN I'M FUCKING going TO fuckinKILL HIM..."
no point ruffling
_________peacock feathers_______

we just have a dispute
so I went and got the gun.
Once in my posession
I thought
"what me, take human
life?"
sure
seemed
r
_isky
and almost impowering
but
not _____-----the kind----
you'd take it up the
butt for 25 to life
blood is a paper cut
to
when
you
hear the
_____________________________________prison doors shut...

****note from author*****Try reading that last poem from the
_____b
______o
____________t__-_-_----t
______________________om





up

the smell
was
____dank
but it ran down the brown
walls
___if this is dyin,
I wonder what living is like?



in life
we
grow
old


in
_death
we
grow
_____young.

I Don't have time
to talk
about
________________________________________ poetry
only
___to write it...
I don't have time
to
play catch up
with my failures
only to keep
my current disappointments


at the drug store
picking
up
kleenex,
lotion,
and a fashion magazine
the
clerk looks at me
funny

I put my plam
up in the air
YES...THIS IS
THE HAND I MASTERBATE WITH

THE HAND I PRAY WITH

THE HAND THAT I EAT WITH

WIPE MY ASS WITH
THE HAND THAT FLIPS YOU OFF
WHILE DRIVING DOWN 88O
SOUTH
____I'm
___n
_____SANE
__I



YA GET IT NOW GO GET
MY CHANGE FROM YRRR
LIL' DROOR
AND
let me use yr restroom
sit down
taking a shit
crying my eyes out
reading a
fashion magazine
I apply the lotion to my
face to cover up the tears
Flush
get
up
and walk
out of the store

A
NEW

MAN.
(20 minutes later)

the shit is hitting the fan

spelling errors in dark code

by the time the lights are out
eating a bowl of rice and drinking a glass of water in a room with one light
and white
walls
hair=poet-mad
wild wordy fever
insanity looks a lot like below
to
be dead...
is to be at peace
but I'm wide awake
with bowl of rice in left hand
fork in other
and this quintessential
look
a
proper fellow
with Brightly blues
that saddened the cheeks of his lover
his is the story that keeps
telling stories
never bored or he'd of
ended his life long ago
he tried three times before
with no such luck
but this time
he'll be dead when the
light switch
goes click
Down
upon the
shoulder of the road
he's broken hood up
blinkers on
thumb out
cold
chilled to the metacarpus

faith,the internet, and 5 other women

he woke up did his routine, logged into his blog site cruised

the women on the Internet
did a double take on a girl named faith...
checked out her profile then moved on seemingly unaffected
next week he got a review of his work in the Times at the same time the girl
sent-slid a little note in his mail box saying, along the lines, of how she liked his half-ass poetry and his narcissistic mirror reflection. She, like Oliver, wanted more...he was ready to charge her. She sent him little links to help his high.. he smiled and said a thank you.
they started talking, exchanging photos and small words as the month moved on so did those small words. they grew and grew then it exploded...love was professed maybe on both sides of the coin too quickly. As the coin flipped into the air at just this moment his good-luck changed, both lived on different continents,
both broke without pennies or pounds, skinny and unassuming.
all of their friends thought they where crazy (maybe they were right)
he thought.
Maybe they were crazy-go-lucky-dreamers without sense of reality.
he didn't mind or seem to care, she didn't either.
they both happily exchanged addresses so as, to send gifts of affection across the sea that separated them.Utterly helpless to ever meet "that's life, a shit deal" he'd say
shit on both ends of the stick.
she had a beautiful 4 yr old boy whose heart was open, loving, and compassionate,
under the circumstances of his mother's manic highs' and lows'. The man didn't seem to see her flaws nor could he foresee any danger, it just excited his imagination into a frenzy of fire, his muse, he'd found a flower capable of always staying colorful
sure there are thorns, sure there is a cut stem to place in a vase, but the man saw broken, clipped roses as radiant mistakes of God's perfection. In her and his inability to hold one another-they where freely able to explore the world of worlds the dream of long-lasting dinner conversations...that went on for days, hours, years. filled w/ laughter, tears, passion, lust, sadness, fears-future plans were all discussed at the dinner table.
If they get to touch, the man feared he'd turn her to stone she was afraid, also,
more because she knew herself in all of her splendor she was still flawed. Able to yell, have outburst, throw things at him, hit him, fear being hit.
They were Blunt and honest wrapped in one they reflected this world w/ such glare it'd blind newborn children right in the womb. Shocked into shopping for airline tickets, wanting so bad to sit in the same room the man talked about taking a loan out to visit her in London or even her home. She also wanted to get away and come to America. But she quit her job and didn't have enough money for monthly bills, food, the rent on her flat. They both prayed for a miracle.
the man told her if her heart was pure her wish would come true, but the man didn't see how his own wish would amount.
knowing he only had his pen, his reading lamp, a towel hanging over a water pipe that ran through his room a 25 dollar stereo that played the classical station at night.
as he drifted off into sleep he knew he could only do one thing to bring her close to him


that was
to
Dream.

poems
by
Josiah





end
________table
lamp
____perfect
and dim

bowl of coins, condoms, shoelaces, dental floss, lip balm,
pipe, 3 candles,
one scented, two plain

a old book of poems
bible
underneath
the
end
table


there is
a bowl of cereal
milk from this morning___spoon
hardening
3 bottles, two empty, of Blue moon
-BELGIAN
WHITE_WHEAT ALE
picture of
_____Jesus
my
__Shoes
A
book
_____temple
__________of
____Sound

one
last line then
Cinderella's
glass
slipper
will
pass out
having to
wake up in
________morning
to scrub
Life-floors
to
make
a DIME

too much blood down the drain

tapping the knee
with my index finger
___________________________________

_________tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap,... tap tap tap
____
__
_
I grunt
nothing happens

-----------I get up from my toilet
put the seat down
flush then
head upstairs

the whole
time
I'm just waiting for
jumping heart
missed breath
fumble of feet

___anything_____
___to stop_______
____my________
_______life_____

___B____
___U____
___T____

nothing happened
I can barely type
I can barely see
I can barely think

the freeway was empty
the cars went home
the fog settled
on the street light
I was on my way

but I woke up on my couch in
the morning
I missed
the gym
the health food
store
the nice talks with
young girls


I missed it
all

All I had
was this bloody
spinning headache
with poisoned
lips that shouted
chuckles at
GOD

I must be a fool
...to play such a game
as
this.

poolhalls, thickhighs, and loneliness

he was
trying
to hard
to
reassure
himself
that he could
pick any one up in
the bar...
but
he had
no confidence

in
the mirror
the
girls didn't
eye him
(or me, for that matter)
he kept
telling
about his ex
A Barzilian aupair

that was poor in english
my german
wasn't
talking to me
but my mind
was on a girl
I never met
in england
one
I never even
saw,
touched,
kissed
but
she

writes
me daily
and we
talk of fireplaces
and kindled wood,
and rainy nights

DROPS
DENT
DREAM
on
there
way
down
from cloud-heaven
we'd warm each other
w/ cozy blankets
and
hot chocolate
sipping
each others
... tastebuds
and passing out w/
only
an
ocean
seperating
us...


pity
she's

not
here

but this guy
was
trying to get
laid
....and I'll I thought was
he's
no match for the poet...


A
true
boxer
of
words
&

charm

cage

my hands
can speak
still
cut
off
my
tongue
can still
think

stop my breathing
and I
shall

no longer

have to dream
...

I have no way of escaping death's row

my longings
for outside
worlds
are
trapped
inside
my
head
which wieghs
a

TON

poesy for the poor

in spirit

in humility
in the arts

in the life
and times

of one of the most
ecentric men
you'll ever read about
he likes to wake up

to two bowls of cerial

dash off to classes
where he studies the music

then its home to record
songs then
stays up to the wee hours
penning poems
and drawing
portriats of faces he
can't get out
his head

and one moment is
overwhelmed
into the
last year
of life
where
things are
safe to say
the most interestingthey've been
since he ran out of milk
and used beer
in that two bowls of





cerial.